


holy water cannot help you now

by eena



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 3.15-all my children, Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:28:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eena/pseuds/eena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caroline likes to credit herself for being able to handle a lot of shit, but the implications of a gift from the scariest, most unstable, and downright evil creature in existence is too much for even her to repress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	holy water cannot help you now

**title:** holy water cannot help you now  
 **series:** 30 Days of Caroline  
 **author:** Eena  
 **rating:** 14, for swears  
 **disclaimer:** I have disclaimed  
 **pairings/characters:** caroline forbes, klaus mikaelson, caroline/klaus, stefan salvatore, damon salvatore, elena gilbert, bonnie bennett, kol mikaelson, elijah mikaelson, matt donovan  
 **spoilers:** up to 3.15, “All My Children”  
 **summary:** Caroline likes to credit herself for being able to handle a lot of shit, but the implications of a gift from the scariest, most unstable, and downright evil creature in existence is too much for even her to repress.

 **a/n:** I am woefully behind on all 30 Days of Caroline fics, mostly because of real life stuff that involved my dad and a hospital, among others. Sorry for the delay folks, but I promise I’m working my way through the list, surely but slowly.  
  
~0~

She’s read that story, you know. The one about the heart under the floor and the guilt that drives that guy crazy because he hears it thumping away. Her eleventh grade English teacher made her whole class read it, made them discuss all the imagery and meanings and other stuff about it. The class probably would have gone better if there were less boys in it, because it didn’t even take thirty seconds for some football player to start in on about other thumping pieces of wood.

 

Boys are, as always, idiots. And Ms. Harrison probably should have known better in the first place, but Caroline understands how hard it must be to deal with teenage boys all day. There’s not much they can’t, or won’t, turn into a lame penis joke.

 

But, in spite of the boys, Caroline remembers that story. She actually thought it was a bit too icky that first time around, but she hadn’t been a vampire then. Now she knows more about bloody body parts than she really wants to (and she’s seen more than a normal person should have to).

 

But it’s none of the deaths that haunt her. She keeps those skeletons locked up tightly in her closet, to be dealt with at a better time (‘never’ was technically a time, right?). Actually, truth be told, she kind of wishes that it was some body part, some symbol of a life she’s taken, that overloaded her senses to the point of hallucination. After all, it was way more deep and philosophical to be haunted by bloody, beating hearts under your floorboards than to live in fear of a diamond bracelet.

 

A really _nice_ diamond bracelet, she might add (and then quickly retract because, well, duh.)

 

But she totally gets how that guy felt, the one in the story. Because once you know it’s in there, and even though you know no one else knows, everything in the room now centers around it. Her eyes go to that closed drawer the second she steps into her room. She’ll toss and turn at night, give up on sleep, and just stare at the locked drawer in the dark.

 

It’s too much pressure, to have the knowledge that it’s there. And it’s too damn frightening to think of what it all means. Caroline likes to credit herself for being able to handle a lot of shit (her own father locked her up in a cell and tortured her for hours, for crying out loud), but the implications of a gift from the scariest, most unstable, and downright evil creature in existence is too much for even her to repress.

 

(She swears she hears the damn thing rattling around in the middle of the night, banging up against the sides of the drawer, and demanding to be let out-to be _acknowledged_ ).

 

So Elena’s only been in her room for ten minutes, checking up on her and holding her hand and doing other best friend type things while Bonnie rants and raves and wears a hole in Caroline’s carpet with all her damn pacing when Caroline tells them.

 

Okay, maybe she flips out, cries a lot first, and just barely manages to point a shaking finger at her drawer until Bonnie gets her meaning and fishes out the bracelet. And maybe there’s a minute when both her friends look at her like she’s nuts because, well, it’s a really _nice_ bracelet. So she draws in a breath, tries to find some calm from deep within, and then tells them as strongly and as rationally as she can.

 

“Klaus left it-for my birthday.”

 

Okay, her voice wobbles at the end, but she can’t help it because just saying it out loud makes her stomach fall to somewhere near the basement, and it hasn’t gotten any less scary in the whole day and a half since it happened.

 

But they get it, both of them, because Bonnie and Elena are her girls and they react like she expects them to. Bonnie drops the bracelet like it’s suddenly coated in acid and Elena actually scuttles back until her back is against Caroline’s headboard and she’s able to wrap both her arms around her quivering blonde friend.

 

“So, I’m not overreacting, right? This is bad.”

 

Bonnie’s still looking at the bracelet like she wants to smash it, and maybe even makes a move like she will do just that. Caroline swipes it before either of them can blink, clutches it fiercely in her hands, and tries to stop her body from shaking. “He’s got an invite, Bonnie. He can get in any time, whenever he wants. I mean, he could check, right? Check to see if I still have it, or if I did something with it.”

 

She drops her eyes to the bracelet, leans back against Elena, but can’t meet anyone’s eyes. “I mean, am I supposed to wear it? I don’t want to, but he’s like crazy, right? He hurts people. What if he hurts someone if I don’t wear it? What if-my mom-I just . . .”

 

There aren’t words, not really. She dares a glance up, sees the hopelessness that is never too far from Bonnie’s eyes these days. Elena sighs from behind her, a ragged and forlorn sound.

 

“I wish we were thirteen again.”

 

And it doesn’t matter who says the words because all three of them mean it.

 

~0~

 

It’s three days after her birthday and suddenly Stefan’s waiting on her front doorstep, all prepared to take her to school and shit.

 

“You know you’ve probably been expelled by now, right?” is probably not the right greeting, because Elena’s told her endlessly about how not-Stefan this Stefan is. But she figures him not being Stefan isn’t a good reason for her to not be Caroline, and she’s saving all her fear for the monster that actually deserves it.

 

(She’s wearing his bracelet, okay? She’s not taking any risks, not with her mother. She’d rather be uncomfortable wearing the gift than be heartbroken in black-she’s _done_ with funerals).

 

He just grins at her sass, almost like he expected nothing less. “I’m failing calculus.”

 

“Shame on you-weren’t you alive when they invented it?”

 

He laughs, but it’s a fake laugh-kind of like Damon’s laughs from when he first came into town and messed up her life. “Still with the age jokes, huh? Real creative, must spend hours thinking up those zingers.”

 

“’Zingers’? Really?” she rolls her eyes, snatching her arm away when he attempts to guide her to his stupid Mustang. He’s persistent, suddenly leaning against the driver’s side of her Prius and smirking at her in that weird way he had been smirking since running off with Klaus. “Keep making that face and it’ll get stuck that way.”

 

She settles down in the passenger side of the Mustang in the blink of an eye. He slides into the driver’s seat and gives her an appraising look. “You used to be happier to see me.”

 

“You used to be less of a douchebag.”

 

He shrugs, like he agrees but doesn’t really care. He turns the key and eases the car out her driveway and turns it in the exact opposite direction of the school.

 

“I have a Chem test.”

 

“You already aced it,” he fiddles with the car stereo, flying through any stations playing anything that sounded remotely pop. He settles on some oldies stations and then looks at her challengingly, like he wants to see what she can come up with.

 

“You know I dislike being kidnapped,” is what she says instead.

 

“At least you’re conscious this time.”

 

And that’s the last straw, because she’s really tired of being dragged off without her permission, conscious or not. “Stefan, stop being a dick and let me out of this car now!”

 

He’s got eyes for the road only. “Nice delivery, just the right amount of assertiveness. I almost feel like listening.”

 

She folds her arms across her chest and pouts even more than before. He starts singing along with the radio, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel now and then. She shakes her head, pulls out her phone, and types out a message to Elena, which she sends just after jerking her phone out of his reach.

 

“You know, this was supposed to be a secret ditch day between best friends.”

 

“We’re not best friends, not anymore.”

 

“You’re not going to lecture me about the coffins too, are you?”

 

She finally looks at him, glares hard because she can feel the tears threatening in the corner of her eyes. “I nearly _died_ , and let’s not get into the infinite wrongness of what you did to Elena. But I was dying, I was going to be collateral damage in this fight, and you wouldn’t have done a thing about it.”

 

He spares her a glance, face hard and expressionless. “You don’t know that.”

 

“You wouldn’t help Jeremy, not even when Elena begged. You threatened to kill Elena, turn her right on _that_ bridge,” she shakes her head. “Why would anyone think you would do anything different?”

 

Stefan shrugs, shoulders a tad too tight to pull off the whole careless vibe he obviously wants to project. “I got him to get his hybrids out of town; I could have gotten you a pint or two.”

 

That’s so not the point, but maybe they’ve both lost sight of the real point ages ago. “Let me out, Stefan.”

 

He turns to look, but not at her. He looks right at the bracelet on her wrist and she feels like he knows somehow. “So, the Forbes women are Team Klaus now?”

 

“The Forbes women are Team Get-This-Pissing-Contest-Out-Of-Our-Town.”

 

He nods, only once. “Must be a bitch to get those buttons made up.”

 

She laughs, and wants to hit him for making her laugh because he’s playing at being her BFF-Stefan instead of the crazy Ripper-Stefan who’s flown way off the edge of proverbial cliff. “What are you doing Stefan?”

 

“Right now, or . . .”

 

She laughs, soft but bitter. “Now, last week, two days from today-life in general. What are you doing?”

 

He’s silent, jaw set tightly the few times she dares to peek at him. The radio blasts some seventies rock that she’s never heard of before and he does his best to nod along with the beat like he’s more interested in that than in her question. She clenches her fists tight, fingernails digging into her palms, and wonders exactly when they all became so broken.

 

And then she thinks maybe they didn’t become broken at all. Maybe they were never whole to begin with.

 

“You’re not the villain, Stefan. You never were. So stop with the theatrics and give back the stupid coffins before half the town ends up dead.”

 

“Why are you wearing that?” Stefan, a master at diversion if she’s ever seen one, looks pointedly down at her wrist. The bracelet, momentarily forgotten in the indignation of being kidnapped by a friend, suddenly becomes heavier and colder than ever before.

 

“You know, I guess.”

 

He shrugs, a slight lift of tense shoulders that says nothing and everything all at one. “There’s not much Elena doesn’t tell Damon these days. Why are you wearing it, if you’re not Team Klaus?”

 

“Look, wearing this doesn’t mean I agree with him-“

 

“Nope, just means you’re scared enough that you’d do anything not to offend him,” Stefan finally looks at her, gives her that knowing look he used to give her when she threw hissy fits in the forest, jeans torn and dirty after chasing bunnies like a lunatic.

 

There isn’t a response to that; at least no response that wouldn’t sound horribly fake and insincere. She looks down at the diamonds glistening on her wrist, thinks of her mother and the image of Klaus standing in her doorway.

 

“He’ll take from you, if you let him. It’s what he’s good at. You give him an inch, and you’re buried before you even realize you’re dead. You want to be mad at me, go for it. Your mom wants to wave her gun at me and declare Mystic Falls a no-war zone, she’s welcome to it. But don’t side with him, Caroline, don’t even try to pretend. Once you do, you’re his-and he is very jealous about all his possessions.”

 

She wants to cry, knows she would have just openly started bawling seven months ago. But it’s all different now, and Stefan no longer feels as safe as he used to. And maybe he knows it because there’s a pained sort of quiet in the car right now. Caroline tugs herself further and further away from this man who was once her friend and he lets her go because he’s selling everyone the same lie and that would work better if he believed it himself.

 

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she whispers to her window, eyes seeing but not really registering the passing scenery. “I’m not a thing to be possessed.”

 

He traces a finger lightly over the bracelet, a move that reminds her too intensely of the feel of Klaus’s finger on Tyler’s bracelet just three nights past. “Make sure you show him that.”

 

He drops her off a block from the boarding house. The bracelet is off her wrist and at the bottom of her purse just seconds before Damon pulls open the front door. “Can’t let you out of our sight, can we Blondie?”

 

She steps right past him and straight into Elena’s arms. A barrage of questions erupts, from all sides, and Caroline just squeezes her friend once before pulling back.

 

“Leave the coffins, leave the Originals. This was never our fight to being with.”

 

~0~

It’s Friday night and her mom’s not home because life in Mystic Falls isn’t hard enough, so there’s some human out there killing other humans with wooden stakes through the heart.

 

Sometimes, she really hates this town.

 

Her phone buzzes, alerts her to an incoming text and takes her attention away from Snooki’s latest televised drama. The number is unknown to her, but contains only a simple question: _May I come in?_

 

She knows who it is, knows it could only be one person. The urge to run comes hard and fast; she has to grip the edge of the couch tightly to stop herself. She briefly entertains the notion of calling for help, but Damon couldn’t stop him and Tyler was out of the question for obvious reasons. Anger keeps her from calling Stefan and Bonnie would never get here in time.

 

She wonders if he times his visits for those moments when she’s fresh out of options.

 

He waits on her porch, like a normal person, smiles softly in greeting, like a normal person, and asks politely, like a normal person, if he can come in.

 

“Hybrids don’t get perma-invites?”

 

His smile broadens, white teeth shining under the weak porch lights. “I may be a hybrid, but I do still have manners.”

 

“There’s etiquette for killing people?”

 

He blinks at her curiously. “Why do you always think I’m trying to kill you?”

 

Here is when some sort of self-preservation instincts should kick in, but her mouth’s harder to control than a ripper in blood withdrawal. “Because it’s kind of what you’re known for. And it’s no longer my birthday.”

 

He nods gravely, like he understands her predicament entirely. But he’s an indestructible hybrid with no known weaknesses, so she figures that he can’t _really_ understand. “I’m not here to kill you.”

 

“My relief is overwhelming.” She needs to learn how to shut up.

 

“I don’t like showing up unannounced in a girl’s room,” he continues, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I know the Salvatore brothers are known for it, and even dear Elijah indulges now and then, but I do not. It’s rather creepy, I think.”

 

He’s unbelievable. “So, you don’t kill on birthdays, think manners are important, and don’t like doing anything you think is creepy or stalkerish? Anything other eccentricities I should know about?”

 

He stills, acts like he’s giving her question serious consideration. “I don’t like Jennifer Aniston. I don’t know why, she’s a perfectly good actress, but the very sight of her rubs me the wrong way. As a result, I have never watched a full episode of _Friends_.”

 

She can’t tell if he’s making fun of her, or being serious. “Well, that solves all our problems then. We just come up with another kill-the-unkillable plan, compel Jennifer Aniston to help on her birthday, and make it somewhere public so you can’t employ bad manners to beat off the birthday girl. Wait here, I have to text Damon.”

 

“’Here’?” he repeats, like that’s the most important thing she’s just said. “So, I can’t come in?”

 

He’s going to drive her crazy. “I can’t stop you,” she reminds him, as if he needs the reminder.

 

“And yet, I’m asking. Seems like you have to make a choice, don’t you?”

 

“And what if I make a choice that doesn’t please you?”

 

“Then why would I bother asking in the first place?”

 

She wants to throw something, she’s so frustrated. “Fine! You can’t come in, but you can stay right there.”

 

Klaus laughs, leaning against the doorframe and just doing his best to be adorable in her general direction. She doesn’t understand how someone so evil could appear so cute. It probably had something to do with that whole wolf in sheep’s clothing thing, which she always found to be extremely unfair.

 

Seriously, why he is now her headache?

 

He tilts his head, looks at her like she’s the funniest thing ever. “How come you’re not wearing your bracelet?”

 

She’s been dreading this line of conversation for quite some time. She figures it would be better to be cautious, but that has never been one of her strong suits. “Because diamonds don’t go with pyjamas. Duh.”

 

He smiles again, a bit smug this time. “I was referring to Tyler’s bracelet-the quaint little charm bracelet, remember?”

 

It’s wrong that she’s blushing, or that she feels bad because in the light of all new events, Tyler’s bracelet had completely left her brain. She thinks it’s upstairs, in her drawer, but she can’t be certain. That she knows exactly where the diamond bracelet is only makes her guilt worse.

 

“But since you brought it up, why haven’t you worn the other one?” he glances at her, tries for casual but can’t hide the curious glint to his eye. “Did you not like it?”

 

Oh, he’s good. She’s not sure how he keeps angling the conversation around so that she’s either in a position to flatter him or insult him, but she hates it. She’s not good at tact, but she’s been trying to learn. So even as she tries the safe road, she can’t help the childish pout. “I don’t really have anywhere to wear it. I mean, girls don’t wear those kinds of bracelets to school-it’s not a school bracelet.”

 

He nods once, like he completely understands. “Very well. Goodnight, Caroline.”

 

“Wait!” he’s actually turning around and she’s confused beyond heck. “You’re leaving?”

 

He looks back over his shoulder, and she can _hear_ the smirk better than she can see it. “Of course; you wouldn’t invite me in, remember?”

 

She doesn’t feel bad about that. Really, she doesn’t. But she can’t seem to find her centre of gravity, because she’s pretty certain the irrational, psychopathic hybrid Klaus just tried to chat her up like he was a normal guy and she was a normal girl.

 

And heaven help her, but she’s sure that he was trying to _flirt_ with her.

 

She retakes her seat on the sofa, curls her fingers around her phone, and sends out the text to Stefan without really thinking about it.

 

_This is all your fault._

 

When he texts back, asking the inevitable ‘why’ question, she turns off her phone and goes to sleep.

 

~0~

 

She’s still in her black dress, hasn’t bothered to change since coming home from the cemetery, and nothing her mother can say will get her to move from her bed. Eventually, even Liz Forbes gives up, leaves a cup of hot chocolate on the night table that goes cold too fast. Elena calls, Caroline answers. Bonnie calls, Caroline answers. _Damon_ calls, and Caroline answers if only because she wants to yell at someone who’s going to let her yell (and face it, Damon has earned more than his fair share of her anger).

 

Matt drops by, warms up the hot chocolate and won’t leave until she drinks it. She tells him that he’s too nice, and maybe that’s a problem in this town. And he laughs, because he says he’s not changing just because the world’s gone apeshit on them.

 

Caroline knows, right then, that she will _always_ love Matt Donovan, in some shape or form, because he might be the only one worth loving forever.

 

Stefan texts, and she wants to answer, but she knows he’s not that Stefan anymore. She doesn’t want false sympathy from him, when she knows there’s going to be an agenda underneath it all. That might break what’s left of her broken heart, and she’s got an eternity in front of her that would be too hard to stomach without some piece of it.

 

It’s past midnight when her phone buzzes again, with a message that she has become too used to seeing in the last few weeks.

 

_May I come in?_

 

She stares at her phone for a minute, and then texts back.

 

 _Sure_.

 

 

If he’s at all surprised by her sudden invitation, he hides it well enough. She’s gotten a bit used to the sight on him on her porch, but hasn’t had the nerve to let him inside just yet. It’s irrational, because if he ever really wanted to come in, he could. But he’s playing a game with all these polite requests and attempts at gentlemanly behaviour, and she’s playing right along because she can’t think of what he actually wants, or how she could get him to stop.

 

He’s inside her room within seconds, easing the door shut quietly so as to not disturb her mother. She thinks he plays too well at this etiquette game, actually makes her believe it sometimes (but never gets her to trust it, because that means trusting him, and, well, _come on_ ).

 

“Was it you?” she asks, and even she can’t help but wince at the bitterness in her tone.

 

He turns his eyes on her, looks a little hurt, and she wants to buy it but it’s too hard to feel anything but the grief and the awful pain in her chest.

 

“Must it always be me?” he answers with a question of his own, blue eyes imploring for some sort of understanding, some consideration.

 

But she’s fresh out. “It’s been no one but you for months.”

 

He sighs, like he’s defeated. “Very well, but I would ask this: what would I gain from it? Recall if you can, sweetheart, but my plan has been to get the council on my side. Why would I start murdering them? A message to Elena? I’m pretty sure my last message was received loud and clear.”

 

So clear that Elena pushed her brother onto an airplane, happily compelled to never return to his hometown. Bonnie’s still mad about that one, and Caroline sort of agrees with her, but there’s something entirely too hypocritical about a vampire lecturing a human on the murky moral side of compelling anyone.

 

“You miss him,” he notes, says it so matter-of-factly that she can’t help but be annoyed.

 

“He was my father!” she seethes, has to clench her fists in the blankets around her to keep from throwing something (a fist, a slap, a clock, a lamp-so many options, all entirely too suicidal).

 

“He locked you up and tortured you for hours,” is the parry, spoken with a quick shrug and quirk of the lips. “My father tried that with me, a couple of times-didn’t exactly help that supposed child-parent bond. Though, my father wasn’t actually my father, so there is that.”

 

She doesn’t have an answer for that (or at least, not one she wants to give). So she deflects, as painfully and as viciously as she can. “It’s your fault; it’s all your fault. I used to blame Damon, and then Katherine-for like a week that I thought it was all Elena’s fault. But it’s not them, any of them, because you started this centuries before any of us were born. Katherine made me into this because of you, and you would have killed me instead of Jenna if Damon hadn’t freed me first. It’s all you.”

 

She pauses, looks at him angrily, but he doesn’t say a thing. Bastard doesn’t even look affected by this, none of that pretend remorse he’s usually shovelling her way.

 

“So, why are you here?” she continues, moving for the first time since she got home that afternoon. She’s out of her bed and in his face, dressed all in black for the god-knows-how-many-times-now, and her hands are _shaking_ she’s so angry. “Why are you here, with your shy looks and pretend smiles? What do you want from me?”

 

He’s unperturbed by her anger, by her rage. He doesn’t even smirk in her face like Damon used to when that dazed and confused human Caroline would confront him on his bullshit. He just stares at her, silent as the grave, and she wants to hit him but she’s still too scared.

 

The intensity of the moment fades, and the silence is suddenly giving her a headache. She deflates, caves in on herself, and shuffles back towards the bed.

 

He catches her by the wrist, fingers like steel clamped down on her skin. Her heart rate picks up, goes into overdrive actually, and she can’t really remember how to breathe. “I would tell you what I wanted, if I knew what that was. I’m invincible, Caroline, not omniscient. Some things are a mystery, even to me. Some things are entirely instinct, _feeling_ , and not even I can quell them.”

 

She inhales deeply, shakes her hand in a plea for freedom, and holds her breath. His fingers slip away and her arm falls back to her side. She moves until she stands in front of her bed, back facing him, and digs her nails into her comforter in search of courage.

 

“Please stop coming around.”

 

He says nothing for a long time, so long that she feels tears forming because she thinks that maybe she’s pushed too far this time. When he speaks next, his breath ghosts across her shoulders and she jumps at his sudden closeness.

 

“If that’s what you want.”

 

She feels his absence rather than witnesses it. The whole room is suddenly less constricting; she has air to breathe finally. Her legs cave out, and she’s not sure if it’s in relief or fear, but she’s suddenly a mess of legs, black cotton, and blonde curls on her bedroom floor.

 

Stefan texts her again, just before dawn.

 

 _We can use this, Caroline_.

 

She has to pull herself off the floor, rip off her stupid black dress, and stand under the shower’s spray for a good half hour before she can reply. Hair dripping wet, damp towel wrapped around her body, Caroline texts back, fingers striking at the keys harder than necessary.

 

_I know._

 

She throws on an outfit, some sort of jeans and shirt combination with a black jacket over top. Before she leaves the room, she considers the phone again, takes it out, and types out another message to add to the last.

 

 _Douchebag_.

 

_Love you too._

 

~0~

 

“So what? They grounded you or something?”

 

Elena, that golden girl who Caroline loves just a bit too much (who everyone loves too much), is stuck in the middle of a triangle that’s going to kill her. Caroline sees that now, sees it clearer than she ever saw it before. Elena’s spent the last year and a half _dying_ , and there’s nothing that anyone can do to save her. If it isn’t Klaus, if it isn’t one of these Mikaelsons, it’s going to be one of her crazy boyfriends.

 

And she knows it; Elena knows it and maybe she accepts it because she’s certainly not doing anything to stop it. It’s a bit fatalistic, really, but it’s entirely like Elena to pout over something as trivial and gut-wrenchingly important as being able to go to a dance when the larger question of her existence hangs constantly in the balance.

 

“They think it’s a bad idea for me to go,” Elena shrugs like it doesn’t bother her, when it’s obvious that it bugs her more than anything else. “The whole Original family, throwing a ball? They think it’s a covert operation to get at me again.”

 

“Because they would need a ball to do that,” Caroline rolls her eyes, feigns a sort of bravery that she doesn’t really feel when thinking about a whole family of unkillable vampires roaming around her town. She especially doesn’t want to think of the unkillable vampire who keeps leaving her presents all the time, including that ridiculously beautiful blue gown delivered just that morning. “And what exactly do they think would happen? One of Klaus’s brothers is going to try and waltz you to death?”

 

Elena tries to catch the laugh before it leaves her, but it results in an entirely undignified snorting noise. Caroline smirks at her, feels proud of herself because even if she can’t help save Elena, at least she can still make her friend smile. “And anyway, the invitation is in _your name_ -they can’t just RSVP for you. They don’t own you, Elena. Do what you want; do what you think is right.”

 

Elena frowns down into her coffee. “Everybody usually tells me that I’m crap at figuring out the right thing to do.”

 

Caroline scoffs. “Everybody gives you too much grief and not enough credit. It’s still your damn life; no one, especially not Damon or Stefan Salvatore, have the right to tell you what you can and cannot do.”

 

Elena laughs again, letting it flow freely this time. “Aren’t you all ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ today?”

 

Of course she is; how can she not when Stefan’s texting her daily with orders that she’s deliberately ignoring? His constant badgering is driving her crazy. She wonders if this is how Bonnie feels every time one of the Salvatores decided they needed witchy assistance.

 

“Gotta make a stand,” she offers instead, a quick shrug and a smile for her friend. “Besides, if we don’t go, who’s going to protect those crazy boys from themselves?”

 

“Or their dates,” Elena agrees, eyes sliding over the Matt by the bar.

 

Caroline follows her eyes, a touch of panic swelling in her chest. “He’s too breakable.”

 

Elena’s hand covers hers, fingers tightening briefly around her knuckles. “We won’t let him break; if there’s one thing I’d happily die protecting, it’s his life.”

 

“His humanity,” Caroline murmurs, stifling a sigh that is just a shade too despondent. “I would have given him beautiful blonde babies, or at least, enough good practice so that he could make beautiful blonde babies wherever he wanted."

 

Elena laughs again, wide smile hidden behind splayed fingers, and when Matt looks over confused, the laughter only deepens. Caroline smiles a smile that maybe she doesn’t really feel, and reaches for her keys.

 

“So, you need a dress, right?”

 

~0~

 

There’s a hand on her wrist and she’s yanked back towards the dance floor rather more forcefully than necessary. She’s prepared for Klaus, for Damon, even for Stefan. She’s not prepared for Elijah Jr., grinning at her like he’s about to stomp on her sand castle.

 

“Can I help you?” she snaps, because she’s an idiot and why can’t she remember that they’re unkillable and volatile before she opens her mouth?

 

“We’re dancing,” he tells her, and sure enough, they are. Caroline does her best not to wince at the feel of his hand on her waist, puts her hand on his shoulder, and casts a quick glance around for an escape. But he’s already moving her along to the music, and you know what? She used to really like the waltz, before it became this really weird, intense, and slightly frightening ploy used by the Originals to freak her out.

 

She hates this family. She hates their stupid, elaborate home. She hates their stupid, obviously-made-up-at-the-last-second last name. And she really hates how man-handley all the men appeared to be.

 

“My brother likes you, obviously so,” he smirks at her and she wants to ask what the hell kind of name Kol is-why this family has to use a ‘K’ to spell everything just to make their names into special snowflake names. The question itself has nothing to do with anything, but does reveal how close she is edging towards suicidal behaviour these days.

 

“So?” is what she says instead, pouts hard because she doesn’t want to be here and she can’t even see where Matt is anymore.

 

“So, none of us have seen him blush like a schoolgirl since . . . well, he’s never really blushed like a schoolgirl. But he’s acting a lot more like Niklaus than Klaus around you.”

 

“Aren’t they both the same person?”

 

Kol Mikaelson was probably very close to her own age when his parents decided to turn him into an unkillable monster. He’s very obviously the youngest of the Originals, impetuous, reckless, and maybe even brattier than Rebekah. He acts a child as well, but his reaction to her question seems to flood every one of those thousand years of living into his eyes and finally she’s appropriately frightened.

 

“Niklaus was a human boy who liked to draw, wanted his father’s approval, and promised himself daily that he will never be to his own son what Mikael was to all of us,” Kol’s lips twitch, and the agelessness is gone, hidden behind yet another mask. “Klaus is much more fun, though a shade more violent.”

 

She wonders if he’s hit his head recently, wonders if he hit his head right before he was turned into a vampire, and that would explain all his crazy. “He daggered you, stuffed you in a coffin, and carted you around like luggage for almost a hundred years. And you’re watching out for him?”

 

“Family is family is family,” Kol spins her suddenly, out of sync with the other dancers, and laughs at her gasp. “You tend to forgive and forget easier when you have forever stretched out in front of you. Besides, Klaus daggers everyone. It’s not even like he really means it anymore.”

 

She’s ready for the spin this time, steps in and out of it gracefully, and replaces her hand on his shoulder with all the poise and grace of Miss Mystic Falls. “You’re all insane, and I’m afraid it’s catching.”

 

He tugs her closer than is appropriate and she just knows he’s smirking over her shoulder at his brother because that’s just the kind of little brother he appeared to be. “Tread carefully, lovely; we forgive each other easily. We hold grudges against all others.”

 

The song is over and she pushes back from him suddenly, a crucial foot of personal space between them now. “Yeah, well, I hold grudges too. Maybe you could tell him that for me, huh?”

 

She stomps off towards the exit, careening towards the side doors when she catches sight of the back of Stefan’s head just ahead of her. If she manages to get all of five seconds of thinking time tonight, she’ll be eternally grateful.

 

Caroline grabs her shawl from the coat check girl (really? A personal coat check girl?) and slips through a set of French doors that promise fresh air and short-lived freedom.

 

~0~

 

She’s not sorry. She’s really not.

 

Bonnie’s upstairs and Elena’s walking down her front steps and why does everything have to hurt so much all the time? Caroline trudges wearily away from her front door, thinks she feels eighty instead of eighteen (and really, she’s only seventeen forever right?), and she wants to cry. Not just a little cry, a few quiet tears before she becomes a pillar of strength for all those around her. No, she just wants to sob, loud and hard, and wait for her mother to come home and hug her and kiss her and tell her it would be all right.

 

But Liz Forbes hates lying to her daughter, especially nowadays, and there’s no way anyone could guarantee anything would be all right now.

 

Her phone’s buzzing on the side table, lights flashing and warning her of a waiting text message. Stefan, she knows before picking up, and she looks at it against her better judgement.

 

 _Sorry_.

 

She laughs, knows it sounds too watery and a shade too hysterical, and shakes her head.

 

_Congratulations. I think I hate you. Go off and be rippery and bff-free, because I AM DONE._

 

It sucks that she doesn’t even know if she means it. Caroline throws her phone in the direction of the living room couch, buries her hands in her hairs, and just pulls while she fights off a flood of angry, hot tears.

 

She might not stop if she starts.

 

“Your night seems to be going badly.”

 

She spins around, momentarily stunned by sheer disbelief. “Seriously? Seriously! When the hell did my house become Grand Vampire Station? Is there one vampire within a thirty mile radius that doesn’t have an invite?”

 

Elijah, who she’s never met before and she kind of liked it that way, looks too comfortable in the armchair closest to the fireplace. He’s got his suit on, one leg crossed over the other, and hands resting easily on the armrests like he owns the damn chair. “Your mother invited me in last spring, when I was here at the invitation of the Founders’ council. Of course, she thought I was a historian doing research for a new book, and she was happy to show me that old family sheriff badge from the 1860s and answer all my questions about the Forbes’s family legacy in Mystic Falls. It was rather interesting.”

 

She counts down from ten. She can hear Bonnie still sniffling up in her room, doesn’t want to think of the chaos that will erupt if her friend learns that there’s an Original just below her feet. Caroline drops her voice to a whisper, but still can’t manage to lose some of that innate bitchiness of hers. “Really? Don’t you have your own stupid mansion to pollute with your presence?”

 

“And haven’t you angered enough members of my family for one evening, Miss Forbes?” Elijah, cool as a cucumber and unfairly hotter than he had any right to being. Caroline eyes him, half in disbelief, half in reluctant swoon, and thinks she understands Elena’s pull to this guy after only thirty seconds of interaction because _damn_.

 

(And she’s not being shallow, at least not entirely, because there’s something in that quiet voice, faint smirk, and those damned eyes that make her forget how much she hates him and his entire family for about three seconds too long.)

 

She snaps out it, angry that she was ever in it to begin with. “And hasn’t your family done enough damage in the last thousand years to just go quietly into the night already?”

 

He goes still, scary still, and looks at her with those ancient eyes. In an instant, she sees it, sees the family resemblance, and has to dig her nails into her palms to keep herself from bolting.

 

“I’m not sorry,” she says, but her voice is barely a whisper and she can’t stop one tear from falling.

 

Elijah breaks his stare, raises his eyebrows and waves one hand rather dismissively in the air. “And I don’t think you should be, if we’re going to be brutally honest. And you are that, Miss Forbes. I think it’s half the reason why he likes you so much.”

 

“When will you people understand that it doesn’t matter how much he likes me. I don’t like him.”

 

“You could,” is his only reply. He gets to his feet before she can think of a retort, or shove her foot further into her mouth because that really seems to be the only thing she excels at most days. “You know, you reminded him of something other than his life-long quest for power and he was almost grateful. There will be repercussions for this night, Miss Forbes, and I’m not saying that because I want to scare you. I’m saying that simply because it is true, and you should prepare yourself.”

 

He’s moving to the front door while she stands there like an idiot, wondering why all these ancient people with their ancient daddy-problems are doing drive-bys through her life. “Why are you even here?”

 

He stops, hands on the doorknob and very reluctantly turns around. His eyes go to the staircase, to where Bonnie sat guarding her transitioning mother. “I know this night was my doing, as well as my mother’s. I had it in my head to apologize, but then it occurred to me that perhaps it would be better to be considerate than contrite.”

 

He takes two steps closer and she fights not to take two steps back. “You are right; we’ve had a thousand years of living, and we’ve done worse things in those thousand years than you could ever imagine. We are monsters; I’ve always known it, but could never admit it before now. We might not deserve to live any longer, Miss Forbes, but we are a family. And we will protect our own to the very end of days. And that is something for which _I_ am not sorry.”

 

She lets out a shaky breath, the second the door closes behind him. She takes a seat right there in the front entrance and thinks she is utterly out of her depth. She’s not the one meant to be tangling with ancient, unkillable monsters. She’s a silly, tad shallow, daydreamer and all she ever wanted in life is completely beyond her grasp and really, she thinks the entire world is to blame at this point.

 

And maybe some of that blame belongs to her now, she doesn’t know.

 

She doesn’t know a lot of things anymore.

 

~0~

 

Her flirtation with suicide is at an all-time high.

Bonnie would freak if she knew where she was, and Elena would come and get her before anything could happen, because running into danger for her loved ones is what Elena does (and maybe it’s not always the best decision in the long run, but how can you blame the girl when you add up all the deaths in the last year and a half and realize she’s standing on the same precipice Katerina Petrova stood on five hundred years ago, standing before a house of slaughtered family members and no one to blame but herself).

 

Matt might lose some of his cool if he knew as well, and Damon might try to sober up long enough to forbid her or something; Stefan might even object, ripper douchebag that he was.

 

(And she thinks it’s really unfair that she loves him so much, because he’s still her best friend, and she doesn’t want to forgive him, but maybe the Originals are onto something with this forgive and forget thing they have going on. Her mom is going to die; Elena, Bonnie, and Matt might get to live another glorious eighty years or so, but she’ll still be around, seventeen forever. Stefan and Damon are assholes and she hates them more than she likes them most days, but she thinks that a century or two down the road they’ll be the only family she has left and she wants that, wants it more than anything. She doesn’t handle an hour of loneliness well; she wouldn’t know what to do with an eternity of it.)

 

But she stays where she is, sitting on that same bench in front of the Grill where just hours ago she ran a distraction that didn’t buy her friends anything in the end. Her phone is in her hands and she contemplates calling for someone to save her from herself, but knows she won’t because she’s stubborn and Elijah was right.

 

There will be repercussions. She might as well face them on her own terms.

 

“This isn’t the best time for one your games, sweetheart. I’m short on patience tonight.”

 

He looks angry, mouth set in a thin line and those blue eyes as hard as rock. She swallows the bulk of her fear, and the majority of the things that she wants to say in response to his greeting, and tries to be smart for a change.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He’s suspicious, and he’s right to be. She doesn’t mean what he thinks she means.

 

“I’m not sorry for deceiving you, for helping with something that was supposed to put you and your family down,” Caroline looks down at her hands, at the wallpaper on her phone. It’s a candid of her, Bonnie, and Elena from their first year on the cheerleading team. All three of them were dressed in uniform, waving pom-poms, and smiling their brains out.

 

She shows him that picture.

 

“I’m sorry for them, for those girls because they’re dead and we’ve all been pretending like that’s okay. Jenna took that picture; she used to drive us to and from practice whenever she was on semester break. Sometimes she would dance along with us, sometimes whistle and cheer. She was the cool aunt that everyone wanted but only Elena had, and she was amazing. You killed her.”

 

He hands her back the phone and takes a seat beside her, eyes still angry but silent nonetheless. She wipes away a few more tears and soldiers on, bluntly as is always her way.

 

“You could have taken anyone; a bus driver, a waitress, some random guy walking down the street across from you. I’m not saying you should have killed anyone, but you had options. You chose Jenna; you had Katherine lure her out of the house and you made her into a vampire to sacrifice alongside with Elena for no other reason than to torture the both of them. It was sadistic, unnecessary, but you did it anyway because you knew it would hurt them and you wanted to hurt them. You want to hurt almost everyone, and you try your hardest to make sure you do. Killing Tyler in front of the others might have made your point, but so could have threatening to kill him. Snapping his neck in front of his friends, so you could hear their screams and see their tears-that’s who you are. It might not be who you’ve always been, and it might not even be all of who you are. But that doesn’t mean it’s excusable. I’m not your family, Klaus; I have no obligation to forgive you.”

 

She waves the phone at him once more, angered by her own tears and his silence in a way that only Caroline Forbes can get angry. “I’m sorry for her-this girl that I used to be. This girl was sometimes catty, sometimes bitchy, and more than a little shallow. But she meant well, and she had dreams and goals, and she loved people and wanted nothing more for them to love her back. This girl died piece by piece at the hands of people other than you, but she still died. Damon probably did the most damage and maybe he’s sorry or maybe he’s not-she’s still gone, isn’t she?”

 

Another breath, and she pushes on, right to the end. “You deserved what I did to you, because you’ve hurt my friends and you took and took and took until they were left with almost nothing. But what I did was wrong, because it was deceitful and I took advantage of you like Damon took advantage of me, the way Katherine took advantage of me. I used what were genuine feelings on your part and I played with them because it was to my advantage and to your disadvantage. And that’s something that I’m ashamed of, but not the reasons for it and the results from it are not things that I will apologize for. You reap what you sow, and all that crap.”

 

She’s all out of words at this point, and she’s just kind of waiting for him to snap and bite her or something just as bad. What she doesn’t expect is for him to get to his feet quietly and start to walk away.

 

Five steps, and he stops. “How can you not see why I fancy you?”

 

She licks dry lips and shuts her eyes despondently. “How can you not see why I don’t want you to?”

 

When she opens her eyes, he’s gone.

 

~0~

 

It’s another Friday night, and she’s still watching _Jersey Shore_ reruns and pretending like her life isn’t a complete tragedy when her phone buzzes and warns of an incoming text.

 

_Can I come in?_

 

She smirks and thinks of how proud Alaric would be of her answer.

 

_I don’t know. Can you?_

 

The front door opens and footsteps sound their way towards the living room. “You’re hilarious, Caroline.”

 

“And you’re still a douchebag, Stefan.”

 

He raises a hand, waves a bag of Tostitos at her. “Damon hates me tonight, so I thought I’d see if you’re leaning towards reluctant tolerance this evening.”

She turns back to the TV. “I’m not changing the channel,” she warns.

 

He settles down next to her in the blink of an eye, surrenders the bag to her outstretched hand without a word, and makes a very familiar ‘vampire face’ at the screen. “It’s not over, you know. He still wants something from you.”

 

“Theoretically, it’ll never be over, because we’re both going to live forever,” she shrugs away the biggest problem she’ll ever face in her lifetime and then proceeds to shove a handful of chips ungracefully into her mouth.

 

Stefan looks at her in obvious amusement. “Forever might be how long it takes me to teach you to eat properly,” he snarks, but it’s not mean like it has been these past few months and she’s such a dork that that revelation makes her want to cry or hug him or something girly and overly emotional. So she just sticks her tongue out at him and determinedly turns back to the antics of the pride of New Jersey.

 

“So, you think Finn turned on the TV one day, saw about five minutes of MTV programming, and thought the Apocalypse had come and gone while he was sleeping?”

 

He laughs and she beams and they finish the bag between the two of them.

 

~0~

 **a/n part deux:** oh, and I hate this ending, because it doesn’t feel like an ending, but there you have it.


End file.
